Who Am I?
by Astronomy Geek
Summary: A boy wakes up in a hospital with no memory of his life. He is told that he is Harry Potter, but what is he? Why does he have no memory? And who has he Conquered? HH, with posably GD and RL in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Harry wakes up in St. Mungos' hospital to find that he can't remember anything. Will his friends be able to get his memory back? HHr

**Who am I?**

Chapter 1

He could see white light shining through his closed eyelids. He opened them, thinking that it was time to…to do what? He couldn't remember. Light hit his eyes and shot a quick jolt of pain through his head. _What was that?_ he thought as he covered his eyes with one hand and put the other to massage his temple. When he felt his hair, he also felt…cloth? He uncovered his eyes when they adjusted to the bright light in a white room. He had no idea why he was there, and the thought scared him. _How did I get here?_ He sat up, and more pain came to his head. He looked around franticly trying to find something familiar, but his head ached with pain when he snapped his head around.

He was surprised to find the white room fuzzy and hazy. He was frightened, for he couldn't see much of anything. He looked around as a dull pain came to his head. He saw a little wooden table next to his bed and could see two things glisten in the bright light: glasses and a mirror. He reached over, and was surprised to find a fair-colored hand reach out. He didn't know that he was fair skinned…or remember anything for that matter. He grabbed the round-framed glasses and set them onto his nose. Instantly, the room came into view.

It looked like he was in some sort of hospital with the rows of white, empty beds along the white walls. He found a door to his right on one side of the wall, and little windows up high, almost touching the ceiling, which brought bright sunlight into the room. He looked over to the little table, and picked up the hand mirror to look at his reflection. He saw a surprising image appear through his…_green eyes?_

Indeed, emerald green eyes looked back at him. He appeared to be in his late teens, and could see black stubble on his chin and cheeks. He saw that he had a patch of messy black hair that poked out of the top of a white cloth wrapped around his head; a bandage. He also saw a thin scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his fair-skinned forehead. _How did I get that?_ he thought as he ran a finger slowly over the old and unusual wound.

Then, the door to his right opened silently. A woman of about 50 wearing a white robe poked her head into the ward. She looked in to find him awake, so she entered. As she got closer, he could see her expression was saddened by some type of news, or by possibly him.

"Hello," she said, "I'm Healer Jones. I have a few questions for you. Are you ready?"

He was suspicious, which his features showed, but he nodded.

"What is your name?"

He thought about that…and couldn't think of what it was; there was just a blank spot in his empty mind. His heart started to beat faster; he couldn't remember something as important as his name. He shook his head, which made him wince as his head hurt again.

"No, please try to stay still," she said quickly. She moved his pillows up vertically next to the backboard of the bed. She then pushed his shoulders backward, so he would be resting on the pillows.

"Do you know why you are here?"

Again, he had no answer; just a blank spot in his brain.

"No," he said simply.

Just then, a girl poked her head into the room from the open door. She had bushy, curly brunette hair and was wearing a black robe; _what's up with robes?_ he thought as the girl walked in. The woman called 'Healer Jones' looked at the girl and started to walk toward her. Jones then leaned over to whisper into her ear. He could not hear what was being said, but he could tell that it was about him. The girl looked sadder and sadder as Jones continued with her whispering. Jones then looked back at him and gave him a small, sad smile and left. Now, he was alone with this girl that looked on the verge of tears as she looked at him.

He felt rather uncomfortable as she looked at him, but some, small part of him felt warmth come from somewhere inside. Then, the girl walked closer with quick, nervous steps and sat on the bed next to his. She looked at her hands as her eyes started to leak tears.

He could see her face clearly now that she was closer; she was pretty. She was around his age, with teary, cinnamon eyes. He looked at her with his brow frowned; _do I know her?_ he thought. He thought that he had seen her in a long-forgotten dream that just appeared in a flash of remembrance, although, everything is a long-forgotten now.

"Do you know who I am?" said the girl in a shaky voice. She finally looked up at him and locked eyes. He just stared back, hoping to remember her face.

"No," he said in a disappointed and saddened voice; he wanted to remember this pretty girl, for she knew him. "But you know me. Who am I?"

"You are Harry James Potter; the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Conquered," she said with a hint of pride and pleading in her voice, as if that would help him remember.

"Conquered what?" he asked with growing suspicion, curiosity, and wonder.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own anything to do with the Wizarding world or Harry Potter! Please R I'd appreciate it.**

Chapter 2

"You killed Lord Voldemort," answered the girl. Harry stared at her with his mouth open as fear began to settle into the pit of his stomach. _I'm a murderer?_ he thought. He became scared at what he was before he had forgotten his life; maybe, now that he had killed a person, he didn't want to know forgotten memories. Harry's' breath quickened, and he wondered why this girl was looking at him, a murderer, with sad cinnamon eyes.

"Wait," Harry said, his brow frowned, "How would I know that you're not lying to me?" The girl sighed, and looked at the white tiled flooring. "You'll just have to trust me." She then gave a little helpless laugh to the floor, and shook her head.

"How could you trust me when you don't even know yourself?" she mumbled to herself. Harry stared at her intently; he thought that he had briefly seen her, like a face he had past on the street, but didn't take the time to look closer. Some little piece of him felt like he remembered her, and that little part knew that she was…was something to Harry, but he couldn't put his finger on what _it_ was.

"Why are you here," said Harry.

"I came here to visit you…," she said as tears filled her eyes, "…too bad you don't remember me."

"Who are you? How do I know you?" The questions spilled out of his mouth. Harry felt completely helpless; he was asking a girl that he didn't even know—well, remember—about his life.

"My name's Hermione Granger," she said, looking into Harry's green eyes. As Harry looked into her eyes and heard her name, he saw a flash of a memory in his minds' eye: It was her; she was smiling and laughing, with a body of water in the background. But just as it appeared, it was gone, as if the bandage that was wrapped around his head had soaked it up.

"Do you remember?" Hermione said quickly after she saw Harry's eyes suddenly glaze over, as if remembering. She sat up straighter, and gripped the clean white sheet while she waited for Harry to answer.

"I…err…I think so. Well--I saw something," Harry stuttered. His head then began to throb gently as he tried to capture the past memory. Hermione had a sad look on her face when Harry looked at her again; it was easier to look at her than the bright, white walls that hurt his head to look at. For some reason, Harry felt sad to look at her miserable expression; she was too pretty to have her face covered by sadness. _Oh, stop thinking that; just shut up…Potter. That's right, I'm Potter. Wow, I can't even mentally curse myself because I'd forgotten my name._

Then suddenly, the door at the end of the room burst open. A boy around Harry's own age stopped inside of the room and looked between Hermione and Harry. His ginger hair was windswept and messy, and his magenta robes with were wrinkled. On the robes, were the letters WWW which made Harry wonder what it stood for. _Weird Wardrobe Warehouse? _Harry thought, rolling his eyes to the ceiling briefly._ These people are mental for wearing robes_._ Why is everyone acting like its Halloween? Wait…is it Halloween? Even if it was, why is everyone wearing the same thing? _

The boy then ran over to Harry's bed and looked down at Harry with wide, confused blue eyes. _Whoa, _thought Harry looking up at the boy, _he's tall._

Harry looked back with unsure, nervous, and frightened eyes as the redhead looked at Harry with a critical one. The boy then looked over to Hermione, and they locked gazes. From her gaze, the boy came to a conclusion to his never-spoken question; Harry gave a wild guess that the boy knew him and what the question was.

Lucky guess, because the boy walked slowly over to the bed Hermione was sitting on, and sat down un-gracefully, causing Hermione to bounce slightly on the mattress. Harry suddenly got another image: a red-haired boy falling off of a…a horrid looking creature with dark, stretched skin over the skeleton of a horse, and folded, leathery wings. Harry blinked to clear the image, and the white room came back into view.

Harry saw his company, embracing on the little bed, as if they were at a funeral where a loved one had just perished. Harry thought that if he had a friend who had lost his memory and didn't know who his…acquaintances...were, then it was about the same difference. They then released each other, and both looked at him with teary, red eyes. Harry felt as if he was on display at some kind of zoo—he was in a cage, with a little bat-eared, elf-like creature looking through the metal bars. Harry blinked the image away; he had a feeling that his life was a bit…weird…or he was crazy for seeing a winged horse and a little elf, while _he_ was the one in a cage.

"Do you remember me at all, mate?" said the redhead with pleading sadness dripping with his tears and covering his voice. Harry looked between the two people in front of him with wide eyes; his mind plank of important memories; he didn't know what to say.

"I see you two…in flashes…" Harry said lamely; he even thought that his remark was stupid.

"I'm Ronald Weasley," he said after a moment of hesitation. By the look on his face, he felt sad at repeating a name that Harry should know now by heart; too bad that was as empty as his mind.

"Wait," said the boy named Ronald, turning to Hermione, "if he doesn't even know our names, then does he know what he _is_?" Hermione looked to the ceiling with pleading eyes. She then covered her face with her hands; something told Harry that they had a lot of explaining to do. And speaking of explaining, what else could he be other than a murderer (a sudden bit of nausea overtook him at the possibility of him really killing someone) and a boy with a blank mind? _Wait a minute,_ Harry thought with sarcastic humor,_ I wonder if I'm a fairy or something else stupid and mental. Apparently it has to be interesting for them not looking forward to telling me._

If only Harry knew that being a fairy would be a story less complicated to tell…

**A/N: If you remember in the Order of the Phoenix, Ron fell off of the thestral at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. The memory about Hermione I added for fun. Also, the one about the little elf, a.k.a Dobby, Harry had the dream before Second Year about Dobby encaging Harry to keep him 'safe'. I just thought that I'd point out that. Please R&R if you want me to continue! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Harry is J.K.'s not mine! I don't own Tinker Bell or Disney either! Thanks to all of my reviewers; you guys are great!**

Chapter 3

"Should you tell him, or should I?" whispered Ronald to Hermione. Hermione looked down to the wooden floor, as if asking it if she was the one that should tell Harry what exactly he was.

Meanwhile, Harry looked between the two of them with a little smile tugging on his lips; he still had the thought of him being a fairy.

"I'll tell him," said Hermione, looking up at her red headed companion.

"Harry, I don't know how else to tell you this…," said Hermione with an embarrassed look spreading across her face

"…you're a--a wizard," she concluded, looking at Harry to see his reaction.

Harry just stared at her; his smile wanted to burst forth. _A wizard,_ thought Harry with sarcastic satisfaction, _better than a male Tinkerbell._

"Harry, we're serious!" said Ron with his brow frowned as he saw Harry's mouth twitch and his chin tremble from containing the smile and laugh. But, he couldn't contain it much longer.

"That was a good one!" he chuckled with a big smile on his face as he pointed to Hermione. "There'd've been no way I'd've said that with a straight face! You're a right good actress 'Mione!" Hermione's eyes widened and Ron's eyebrows shot up. Harry's smile slowly faded when he realized what he had said. _Why did I call her that?_ He thought.

"What did you say, Harry?" questioned Ron quietly as he leaned forward to Harry.

"I said 'Hermione'," said Harry with his brows frowned at Ron, like the freckled guy with the long nose was hearing things. His companions looked at each other then back at Harry.

"So," said Harry, changing the subject as lifted his body up and turning towards Ron and Hermione. He folded his legs and sat cross-legged as he looked at them with a little on his face.

"I'm a wizard," he said simply, not buying a word of it. "Wait, if you're lying to me now, than how can I trust you when you say I'm a murderer?" questioned Harry. Ron's face turned to fury as he stared at Harry.

"WE'RE NOT LYING!" shouted Ron as he clutched the wrinkled sheet that he sat on.

"Oh, come off it; how could I be a wizard? Wizards don't even _exist_!" shouted Harry back. He then turned to Hermione and his face turned back to humor. "Besides, it would've taken a lot of plastic surgery to change your green skin pale and remove the old wart on your nose. I don't think you'd have done that; I'd've taken a lot of money! You _are_ from Disney, right? Do you ride a broomstick and have a black cat?" he added with his brow frowned in fake seriousness.

"You…you--" was all that Ron could say as his ears reddened and his knuckles turned white from gripping the sheet. He then stood up and said, "You are a bloody wizard; stop denying it and stop mocking us!" shouted Ron. Suddenly, the glass of the little hand mirror exploded; leaping bits of glass flew towards the wall and Harry and Hermione.

With oddly fast reflexes, Harry threw his arm over his head, causing the glass to bounce off his sleeved forearm. He heard the pieces of glass clatter to the floor and heard a small yell. Harry, his eyes wide with shock as he turned back to his raised arm. _Whoa, I'm lucky; no blood, _thought Harry as he lowered his arm slowly, and looked at his companions. Ron was sitting back down on the bed, trying to get Hermione to look at him.

Her face was covered by her hand as the other shooed Ron away. Harry looked at her with concern; was she hurt from the…explosion? Harry looked at the mirror with his mouth open; the frame itself did not move, but all of the glass was gone.

"Hermione?" said Ron fearfully as his blue eyes filled with worried tears, grabbing her shoulder and trying to turn her towards him. She then raised her head and looked at him. Her hands and face were covered in little streams of blood that ran down her cheeks and onto her thin lips. Harry sat and stared as his heart began to beat faster and faster. _Why does this seem familiar?_ He thought as a sudden wave of horror ran through him.

He suddenly heard a far-off noise: yelling…then an explosion. His eyes lost focus as his ears pricked backwards toward the approaching noise. His companions faded before him like a mirage in the hot desert and were replaced with…blood. Blood suddenly ran into his green eyes, stinging and blinding him. It slipped through his lips and he could taste its' metallic flavor as it sent a shiver though his bones. He wiped them with his dirty hand and his vision came back slightly as he looked through red-smeared glasses.

He saw people of all ages running and screaming, raising wands and shouting multiple words and phrases. He was on a green field with trees to the right and people flying on broomsticks, shooting streams of red and green down upon figures on the ground. A black robed figure sent a disarming charm at a red head that flew over him.

Ron's elbow was hit, and his wand fell to the grass. Ron made a wide turn with his other arm while his right fell limp besides him. He headed back to his attacker, evading the jets of green with swift lefts and rights, and when he got close to him, Ron kicked his mask with his boot.

Some people were wearing bottle green robes and blood, while others were wearing black robes and white masks. Harry saw raised his wand and shouted with all of his anger and fear, "Expelliarmus!" A red stream shot out of his wand and hit a black-robed person. They went flying over a figure that was lying crippled on the ground; the person was wearing a green robe. Harry ran to the figure; it was Hermione. Her face was covered in blood and her wand lay in her limp hand. _No, don't let her be dead!_ Thought Harry as he reached for her—

"Harry…HARRY!" Harry suddenly saw…Hermione. Harry looked up at her from his back with his eyes brimming with tears. He suddenly lunged upwards and wrapped his arms around her neck; she wasn't dead. Harry then noticed what he was doing, and slowly let go of her neck.

Harry breathlessly looked up at her; her face was now smeared with blood, but she did not notice. Harry then looked behind her and to his left. Ron stood looking at him with wide eyes; he was breathing fast as well. Harry then looked up at Hermione again; her eyes were full of tears as she looked at his confused face.

"WHAT IS BLOODY GOIN'ON HERE?" he suddenly shouted. Harry scrambled backwards, away from Hermione.

"What're you talkin' about Harry?" Hermione said, taking a frightful step back.

"I'll tell you what I'm talkin' about!" he said, reaching the edge of the bed and falling over. His hands slapped the floor, but he took no notice. He moved to the side of his neighboring bed and shouted, "I saw you bleeding in a field one second, and then I find you in a hospital the bloody next! Ron—yes I called you Ron, _Ronald_—was riding a bloody _broomstick_ in whatever that _bloody_ thing was! People were using _wands_ and the mirror exploded" he jabbed a finger at the mirror frame. "You're wearing _robes _and say that I'm a _murderer_ and a _wizard, too! _You did something to me; you've turned me _crazy_!" Ron and Hermione stood, looking at Harry with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Harry--" said Hermione timidly, but was cut off.

"You were almost dead!" shouted Harry, pointing a finger at her as tears slipped down his face. Suddenly, his head throbbed with pain, as if the handle of Ron's broomstick whacked him. He cradled his head in his hands and moaned.

"Harry!" said Hermione, as she ran around his bed and to his side. Ron leapt over the bed and landed in front of Harry.

"Owwww; it hurts!" shouted Harry, leaning backwards into the bed. He clutched the bandage around his head, but pain came, wave after wave, worst than the last. His mind seemed like it was ready to explode. He shut his eyes and screamed; he couldn't take it any longer!

"HARRY!" he heard a female voice shout; he did not remember who she was. He felt a hand grip his shoulder as he thrashed back and forth, holding his head tighter.

"I'LL GET HEALER JONES!" said a males' voice through Harry's yells. Harry's body felt numb, while his head felt as it were set on fire. He saw images flash through his breaking memory: a pretty brunette girl looking through a telescope—a red haired girl flying on a broomstick—an old man with a white beard fall to the ground—a man with a face like a snake with milk-white skin—

Harry screamed, "NOOOOOOO!" as the face came closer; its red eyes looking at him with greed, hunger, excitement—

Then all went black and silent…


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Harry and Co. is not mine! But, the plot…or what I'd like to call…_Harry's_ _Predicament_… is mine. Hehe, this chapter was rather fun to write. This is quite a long chapter, but oh well. Thanks to all of my reviewers; I write for you guys!**

Blackness…that was all Harry Potter could see. Comfortable warmth covered him from his neck to his toes as he lay there, on his right side. Harry opened his eyes, and a blurred, blue image came into view, as well as a little night stand close to his head. He was very thankful that the bright sun light from outside was covered by the blue curtains …_WHAT? What curtains? What happened! What the--!_

Harry's eyes widened as panic and fear flooded through him. He found his head resting on an unfamiliar blue pillow case, and he was wrapped in a blue comforter. He sat up quickly; his heart pitter--pattered painfully against his ribs, while his breath came in short gasps. His hand darted to the little table, bumping the wooden stick atop it making it roll a little to the side. Harry picked up his round glasses and hurriedly put them on.

His head swiveled and his eyes darted around the blue and wooden room. He was sitting, back rigid; wide eyed, on a four--poster bed with dark blue canopy and hangings that were currently pulled back. The polished wood flooring was covered with bits of ginger hair in various spots, as well as in the little wicker basket with plush lining next to the bed. The walls were painted a periwinkle blue, which complimented the curtains. The curtains were a light blue, making it look like the unsteady surface of the ocean as a light breeze blew in. The room was rather empty, except for the closed wardrobe, which was in the far right corner from Harry's position, and the night stand. The door straight ahead that led from the bedroom and into…where ever it led to…was made of oak and the golden door knob was in the shape of a lions' head.

"Where the bloody hell…am I?" whispered Harry to nobody; his eyes frantically looking for something familiar to help him remember where he was. Then, all of a sudden, memories flooded back to him in the blink of a green eye. The overly white hospital--the scar--the bandage--Ron and Hermione--the bloody field--the mirror exploding--being a murderer and a wizard--

"Oh no…" said Harry in a hushed voice, panic overtaking him.

"No…I can't have lost my memory again…could I? No...'cause if I did, then I wouldn't have remembered…" He stopped his muttering when he heard something from outside of the door. His hand instantly flew to the little table to his right, and grasped the thin stick of wood that lay there. Harry suddenly realized what he did, and looked down at the…wand. _Why did I think a stick could help me? What would I do with it? Stick it up the intruders' nose or something? I'm not a wizard!_ _Wait…up an intruder's nose…that sounds familiar…_

The noise became a little louder; someone was walking outside. The sound of the persons' footfalls suggested that they wore some kind of boots, which Harry could hear very clearly because he was holding his breath and straining his ears. He began to see white spots and stars appear before his green eyes, so he quickly gasped in air.

The person outside stopped suddenly, just behind the door. _Potter, you gave your position away because you gasped! What did Moody tell you about stealth! Wait…who's Moody…?_

The doorknob turned; the lions' head was now turned sideways. Harry's eyes widened; he had no idea who was about to enter the room. He threw off the blanket and sprang up to his feet; his grip tightened on his wand.

The door opened a little; the hinges squeaked ever so slightly. The suspense nearly killed Harry, not knowing if the person was playing with his fears or if they were armed or…

"I--I'm armed…don't come in!" Harry shouted in a hard, commanding voice. He raised his wand over his head, intending to hit the intruder over the head with it if they came towards him. The door stopped opening, and a females' voice reached his ears.

"Harry…it's me; Hermione Granger," yelled the voice. Harry's raised arm fell to his side, hitting his leg. He let out his held breath as every muscle in his body loosened. _At least I know her. But…didn't she do something to me in that hospital to make me see those…flashes?_

"Come in," he said; his voice still hard as his eyes remained locked on the door. The door creaked open a bit more and Hermione's face poked through the opening.

"I thought you were going to hex me," she said, flicking her chin towards Harry's wand. He looked down at the wand, then back up to her

"I told you already…I can't _hex_ anyone. I'm not a wizard," he said, giving her an icy look. Hermione opened the door all the way, eyes still locked with his, and walked in. Her left hand was balancing a sliver tray supporting toast and jam and a glass of orange juice.

"I came to drop this off, so when you woke up you could eat," said Hermione walking into the room; her boots clicked against the floor. Harry noticed that she wasn't dressed in a robe this time, but was wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt with her hair pulled back. But, there were four things odd about her casual outfit. (A) A leather gun holster--type thing was strapped around her waist, but instead of carrying a gun, it held a wand. (B) Her jeans had huge rips in the knees and ground in dirt was all over the denim. (C) Her right sleeve was singed to a short sleeve, but her arm had no markings of a burn. (D) Her boots were made of sturdy, rough, black material, which the rounded point and sides were crusted with a dark liquid that could have been blood.

Hermione walked around Harry and sat the tray down on the night stand. She turned around to face Harry and looked up at him with her dark eyes.

"Please sit down Harry," she said gently, gesturing towards the bed. Harry sat down, but kept a cautious eye on Hermione. She let an exhausted sigh escape her lips and sat down next to Harry. With her sitting on his left side, Harry could examine the burned sleeve of her shirt more carefully.

"Death Eaters and dragons," she said, looking down at her sleeve. Harry's brow frowned and his grip tightened on his wand. _White masks…green light. Fire…black scales…flying through the air. _His heart began to beat harder, and the more he stared at her charred shirt, the more he felt gooseflesh crawl along his skin.

Suddenly, he was high up in the air. The wind felt so good against his hot and sweaty skin. His gloved hands gripped his broomstick as he flew towards a giant, grey stoned castle; Hogwarts schoolSuddenly, he heard a great roar from an angry beast from behind. He turned around on his broomstick and looked into the face of a dragon; a Hungarian Horntail dragon. Harry took in its long teeth and black scales, which shined slightly in the overcast light. Its' large, black leathery wings, pumping harder to get closer to him, loomed over Harry like the midnight sky. Within the depths of its' gigantic mouth, a fiery glow made its' way to the top of its' mouth. Suddenly, a roaring fire erupted inside of the dragons' mouth, and was sent towards Harry—

"They are supporters of Voldemort, and they stole dragons to help with succeeding with…with their task," said Hermione slowly. Hermione's voice broke through his…daydream…bringing him back to the present. Harry blinked a couple times, and then looked over at Hermione. She was looking straight ahead, at the blue curtain; her eyes unfocused. _Did she…did she really turn me crazy? I'm actually starting to doubt that. Then…am I just going insane? Was I insane before I lost my memory? _

Hermione looked back over at Harry; her warm eyes showed pain and sorrow. Harry looked back up into her dark eyes. He stared into them as he tried to remember who Voldemort was, and trying to push the dragon out of his mind. _I killed him. I killed him…whoever he was. But could she and that Ron Weasley…been lying to me, like they were about me being a wizard? Or maybe…no! I can't be a--a wizard! _Harry didn't believe that he was at all _magical _(the word sounded funny when associated with him), but somewhere in the back of his mind told him that Voldemort was…_different_…and a--

"A murderer," Harry whispered, turning away from Hermione. He tried and tried to remember, but all he got was…screaming and hot pain…green light…and death.

"Why am I here?" Harry asked suddenly, quickly turning back to Hermione. She was startled by his suddenly movement, but she didn't get a chance to answer.

"Where is 'here'? What is the…_Death Eaters'_…task? Who exactly _are _you? Who is…_Voldemort?_" Harry whispered the dark name with such urgency and craving, it scared Hermione; it was evident from the expression on her face. Hermione took a deep breath and answered his questions.

"You are here…because Healer Jones thought it best that you should try to regain your memory as soon as possible, and with someone that knows you and your experiences."

"This is my house," she swept her hand through the air in a wide motion, "and my bedroom. I just moved in here a few days ago. And by 'here'…we are in a remote part of Ireland."

"I am Hermione Jane Granger," she said, looking into Harry's eyes with sadness and longing, "We were best friends back at Hog--at school." _Well…that explains why I felt something different towards her in the hospital; she was my friend. Hmm…Hermione Jane Granger…that's a nice name. It sounds kinda familiar now that I think about it. What did she mean by Hog? Did she mean Hogwarts, but thought against mentioning it?_

"You still didn't answer two of my questions," said Harry; a hungry fire burning in his green eyes and his voice thick with sudden emotion. His fingers shakily slid along the dark handle of the stick, and his knuckles whitened as he nervously gripped it. Hermione looked down at his hands; a hint of fear and nervousness flickered in her eyes.

"I need to know…" pleaded Harry; his voice softening a bit, "Who are the Death Eaters and Voldemort? What is their 'task'?"

**A/N: And…I'll stop right there! Hope this chapter was okay. If you have any questions, please tell me. But, they will most likely be answered in the next chapter. Bye for now:P**


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